


Kill Karen Page - Part 1 - From the Shadows

by KastleInTheSky



Series: Kill Karen Page [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 02, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-18
Updated: 2016-07-18
Packaged: 2018-07-24 17:00:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7516072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KastleInTheSky/pseuds/KastleInTheSky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months after Matt reveals himself to her as Daredevil, life is slow, boring, and lonely for Karen Page, until one night she is faced with danger at the hand's of an old foe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kill Karen Page - Part 1 - From the Shadows

Karen ambled up 10th Avenue exhausted, the fierce white flood lights of the gas station hardly the only reason her eyes squinted as she walked. It felt to her like the early days after her move to New York. She was alone, not afraid, but indeed alone. Foggy was a fresh-faced big shot lawyer getting a little too comfortable with luxury for her taste. She had no idea where Matt was, if he was okay, hurt, alive, who he was with, and it almost frightened her that she was beginning not to care. She was returning from an unfortunately long-winded date with a guy she met on the internet, which had proven to be the only way she could get someone to go to Josie’s with her. She was tired, jaded, nowhere near drunk enough, and alone.

The difference was now Karen felt much safer knowing that the worst of the city was dealt with. The definition of that was loose to her. It wasn’t handled in the way the 15th Precinct, or that Daredevil son of a bitch could “deal with” things. Karen believed that after everything that had happened to her in the last eighteen months, at least it couldn’t get any worse. She rummaged for her keys in her purse as she approached her block. She was thinking of pouring herself a few more glasses of cheap scotch and finishing the article for Ellison about the hedge fun big wigs accused of murder after two call girls overdosed at a company party. Sleeping was a joke.

Surprisingly business had been rather slow for the past few months after the incident with the ninjas at the warehouse, after Matt. Karen had just left that night when Matt came to her, no longer as a colleague or as a lover, but as the Devil of Hells Kitchen. She thought about asking him why, for how long, and sometimes she still thinks about that. She hadn’t heard about him at work or any other news channel. He’d been lying low, she assumed. Maybe she’d hurt his feelings. That was the best-case scenario in her mind; perhaps her reaction caused him to feel terrible about keeping secrets from one of his many girlfriends and one of his only friends. She really hoped that was the case. 

Karen bumbled onward, within two blocks of her apartment. Just five hundred more words to type, five hundred more words, she thought, the repetition lulling her into exhaustion. Suddenly, she was snapped back into the moment by the sound of a car slowly rolling up beside her. She jerked her head upward to see a livery cab next to her with the driver’s side window down and a man with thick red glasses beaming over at her.  
“Need a ride, ma’am?”  
Karen continued walking and the car very slowly rolled alongside her.  
“No thank you, just a couple more blocks,” she responded defensively. She picked up her pace, the sound of her heels clacking growing faster in the dead silence.  
“Aww, c’mon miss. Pretty little thing like you shouldn’t be walking alone at night. No charge, I promise!” Karen quickly gazed back at the driver. His big cheesy grin was enough to give her the creeps, never mind his very appreciated concern for her safety.  
“No thanks, I can manage. Have a good night.” Karen was now hastening just enough to almost be jogging, but the car continued to follow. She had her hands in her pocket ready to reach for her cell phone or her pepper spray. She heard the driver chuckle under his breathe, and what he yelled out to her next was terrifying enough to stop her frozen on the sidewalk.  
“Now, don’t make me come out there and get you!”

Karen stayed paralyzed for only a brief second before she started to charge up the block and toward her building as swiftly as she could, but from out of her peripheral, another man grabbed her left arm and gripped his hand over her mouth. He forced her along the sidewalk, all as the man in the livery cab chuckled and smiled. Her attacker finally flung her deep into an alley, and she tripped over some stray garbage landing hands and knees onto the concrete. Karen foraged for her purse frantically, but the man hurled her over onto her back, powerfully socking her on the right side of her face. She was terribly dazed, the pain of the hit mixing with her adrenaline to create pure and utter bewilderment. 

The man climbed on top of her, and like the driver before him cackled down at her. She was panting and gasping for air, unable to move from his weight on top of her. She was finally getting a proper look at him. He was well put-together, too much so for what you’d expect of a soon-to-be rapist or murderer. He wore dark-wash jeans and an ironed button-up shirt, the sleeve of his blazer now stained with spots of blood from her nose. He used one hand to brush the stray hairs from around her eyes as put his index finger to his pursed lips. He reached into the breast of his jacket and pulled a 9mm from a side holster. Karen writhed underneath him desperately. She knew now any sound she made would get her killed instantly. If only she could break free and reach for her purse.  
He brought the gun right up to Karen’s chest. The man leaned into her so that he was only now inches away from her face. Her lungs filled with a suffocating amount of some expensive cologne. He laughed once more as he whispered to her.  
“Now you’re gonna see what it feels like, you little bi..”

Suddenly the man was hurled off her and into trashcans toward the back of the alley. A tall shadow was pursuing him. Karen scrambled upward crawling towards her purse. The sound of punches and struggling echoed behind her. She could hear a car door open and slam shut as she dug into her bag, looking back to see the man in the livery cab purposefully walking towards the scuffle, reaching for his own weapon. Karen sprung up and ran out towards him, her .380 now raised in the air and pointed at the livery cab driver. Karen fired two rounds into the driver’s leg and hip. He sunk to the ground screaming, dropping his gun onto the sidewalk. 

From behind her, she heard the scuffle in the back halt. She turned around to see her attacker bloodied and unconscious on top of heaps of black garbage bags. The shadow that defended her was deep in the alley. She could barely make out the silhouette of a man.  
“M… Matt?” She was still breathless, the .380 still at her side. The shadowy man came closer, and Karen could make out his entire face.  
“I see you’re keeping that thing on you”, said a familiar gravelly voice. “Ain’t a bad idea, Miss Page.”  
“Frank…” Karen replied exasperated. Frank Castle in the alleyway. “What the hell is wrong with you?”  
“I was in the neighborhood.” He cocked his head to look over to her, a shit-eating half grin plastered on his face. “And you’re welcome.” He walked towards her into the streetlight. Karen could see that for the first time since she’s known Frank Castle, he had no bruising on his face whatsoever. He was quiet distinguished looking actually, though like her, he appeared to have seen too much of the nighttime in recent weeks.  
“We gotta go now,” Frank grabbed the upper sleeve of her denim coat. “We’re not going back to your apartment. I need you to stay close and follow me, and keep that thing out.” They raced into the sinews of the side street, Frank’s grip never leaving her. Frank thrust a set of keys into her hand as they approached an old tenement along the water at 53rd Street.  
“Open up and run into 3C. Lock the door behind you and gimme a few minutes,” he commanded. Fumbling with the keys, she unlocked the front door as Frank held his gun up and pushed the it open.  
“Keep that gun out,” he warned. Karen barely heard the request, as she was already half way up the staircase stifling screams and tears. Not this again, why this again? Her thoughts raced and she flung open the door to the apartment and slammed it shut. Sliding downward to the ground, she couldn’t help but succumb to everything, bawling on the dirty wooden floor. She wanted nothing more than to break the windows open and disturb the night with furious screams. This will never be over, she thought.

Moments later, a whisper came suddenly from behind her fallen head – “Karen, open up”, Frank murmured through the door. “It’s alright. Everything is clear out here. Open up for me.” This made Karen even angrier. She jerked herself upward and flung the door open.  
“What are you doing here, Frank?! What the hell was that?” She was shaking so violently. Frank stood there, his dark eyes soft with sympathy.  
“It’s alright now”, he slowly pushed passed her, taking the door from her as he turned the knob, holding it in an unlatched position for a silent shut.  
“Did you know they were following you?”  
“Who was that, Frank?” Her crying came through in a whisper.  
“Karen,” he whispered back as he placed his heavy hands on her shoulders. “Karen, you gotta calm down for a second…”  
“NO, I will not CALM DOWN, Frank You can NOT expect me get ATTACKED, PUNCHED in the face, damn near MURDERED, and have you of all people show up after all this time expect me to CALM DOWN!”  
Frank removed his hands and kept them up, a gesture of penance as he paced to the other side of this dingy, dimly lit apartment they were in. Karen looked around for a moment. There were no large pieces of furniture; there was only a dusty fridge in the kitchenette and a mattress lied down on the floor on the other end of the living area. An impressively extensive set of guns was arranged in between the bathroom and the living room, AK’s, handguns, a shotgun or two, with nearly a thousand bullets. Karen inquired, “And where even are we? Is this your apartment?”  
“Technically it’s nobody’s,” he replied, his hands still in the air as he snuck over towards the refrigerator. Frank opened up the top freezer and grabbed a plastic ice pack, the kind you’d put in a child’s lunchbox to keep food cold. He brought it to Karen, placing it in her hand and lifting the pack and her hand to the blow on her face. “Landlord owes me a favor, so we ain’t got any problems.”  
“Naturally,” Karen scoffed.  
“Listen, lady,” Frank said frustrated. “I just saved your ass again like I have nearly a dozen goddamn in the last year, so a little thanks or appreciation or something is probably in order, don’t cha think?” His eyes looked at her wildly for a few seconds as he waited for a response, whipping back and forth around the room and back at her, around the room, back at her. He stepped away towards the cabinets, taking the guns he had tucked away inside his jacket and setting them down.  
“Now you mind telling me what the hell Wilson Fisk is doing comin’ after you?” He turned to her, that shit-eating grin back on his face as he leaned his forearms back on the counter. “I know you’re shrewd, Miss Page, but you sure as hell ain’t stupid enough to go after him. So what does he want?”  
Karen’s expression sunk from visible rage to even more obvious fear. “Fisk!?”, she ask. “You’re saying Fisk sent those guys?”  
“He sure did. I’ve been keepin’ an eye out on all his outside guys after the shit he pulled with me in the prison, just to be safe.” He chuckled, “you know, it’s hysterical what those punks will tell you when you’re beatin’ it out of them. I know you lawyer, academic kind don’t get it, but there’s more law in the barrel of any of these guns then anywhere else.”  
“Fisk…” Karen staggered slightly in Frank’s direction.  
“Didn’t get WHY he wanted it,” Frank said as he shot a protective look at Karen. “But the order was for Miss Karen Page. So I’m leavin’ the rest up to you.”  
Karen was speechless. The rage and intensity from earlier muddled with everything Frank was telling her was too much. She squatted down to the floor, a hand on her icepack, her head heavy. “I – uh I…” She cradled her face with both hands now. Finally this had caught up to her.

Frank approached her and crouched in front of her, placing his hand on her jutted knee, his face stern. "You’re gonna stay here tonight. I’m sure he’s sendin’ more guys to your place now.” He smirked, leaning in and tilting his head in attempt to make eye contact. “You’re a good shot too, y’know that? Guess I’m lucky you didn’t blow my ass up after all!”  
Karen couldn’t possibly have been in a jovial mood. She’d killed Wesley. She shuddered even thinking those words, but she’d done it. She’d killed Fisk’s assistant, his only friend, and Fisk knew it. She remembered what the man in the alley had said. “Now you’re gonna see what it feels like..” Fisk was out to kill her.  
Frank furrowed his brow and sighed, focusing now on the icepack and her face. He reached for it again, pulling it back to reveal the forming purple and yellow bruise under her eye and around her nose. He took one calloused thumb and traced the edge of it.  
“’S it hurt?”, he asked.  
“Yeah…”, Karen replied.  
Frank raised himself into standing. “Made sure he got it worse. Come here,” he beckoned. He walked over to a small closet next to his mattress and began to dig through the bottom for something. He came up with a plain white undershirt and black cotton sweatpants. “Why don’t you put on some clothes that weren’t rolled around in garbage?”  
“Why are you doing this, Frank?”, she asked him, her gaze dead fixed on a spot on the wall. “Why did you come back? How did you know to come back?”  
He paced towards her. “You remember that first day you and those two goons came and saw me in the hospital?” Karen swallowed hard. That day she’d been afraid of Frank Castle too, strapped down to his bed, face torn-up and bloodied. She wasn’t sure where he was going with this.  
“What about it?”, she asked dryly.  
“I told you you were safe, didn’t I?  
“Yeah,” Karen scoffed. She managed to lift her eyes to meet Frank’s. He appeared to be biting the inside of his lip, like he was keeping from saying something. “Safe from you,” she continued.  
He advanced towards her quickly and heavily, dropping the clothes he’d brought her limply on the ground beside her. His gaze did not leave her, his lips still tucked inward.  
“You’re safe.” His voice was harsh, almost offended. “Bathroom’s there.”  
Karen looked down at the clothes and back to Frank, who had advanced defensively toward the window. She had to admit to herself that after months of being alone and thrusting herself into work, it felt good see Frank again. He was a murderer, lest she forgot, and he disappeared without a trace after the incident at the warehouse. Karen thought she’d only hear about Frank Castle in the deep corners of news, a blip of story people rather just wanted to forget about. However, right now, crouched down in his hideout next to a pile of his clean clothes, Karen began to smile appreciating Frank as some weird, fucked up constant in her life.  
“Thank you,” she sighed.  
* * *  
Karen lay horribly uncomfortable on her side atop the tattered mattress and deflated comforter that was Frank's bed. She couldn't sleep regardless; she could only replay the event over and over in her head and scold herself for assuming that this could possibly all go away. Everything was still so clear, the deafening pops, the sharp kicks of gun on her hands and wrists, the smell of the powder, and, Karen winced, the relief of it all being over. It ate away at her that all she could think of after was how thankful she was that Wesley was dead. It could've been her, she told herself. It could've been her. She turned over onto her back in a cold sweat. It could've been her.  
"Frank?", she beckoned. Frank had been sitting in the other corner cleaning his guns sitting cross-legged on the floor. He grunted affirmatively without breaking his concentration.  
"Do you remember the first time you killed someone?"  
Frank laughed heartily. “Now what’re you worried about that for?”  
“Really, Frank. Do you remember?” She sat up on the bed and looked over to him. He was still tinkering away with the guns, but very slowly.  
He cleared his throat, “Fourth day of my first tour, walkin’ through some little town. There was five of us and these two kids started followin’ us, hecklin’ us, callin’ us pigs, all that shit. We just blew ‘em off til all ‘a sudden we look over and one’s got a grenade in his hand. Didn’t even think about it. I just held my gun up and shot. Hit ‘em under his chest. Stood there for a minute kinda shocked before he fell, friend had run away shoutin’.”  
“A kid?” Karen gasped.  
“I dunno, Karen, maybe sixteen or so? Why the hell does it matter?”  
Karen gaped at him. “Do you regret it? Ever?”  
He peered over. “Which part?”  
“I don’t know, “ she murmured. “Enlisting? Firing that first shot? Do you think we’d be here if you’d decided to just…” she shrugged, “stay home?”  
Frank gave her a long empty look before turning back to his guns.  
“Never was sorry, Karen, not once.”  
“Why do you think that is?”, Karen whispered.  
“You switch to writin’ books now or summin’?”  
“I killed Fisk’s assistant.” 

The words spewed out of Karen’s mouth and hung in the air like thick smog. The room went tense and sharply silent. Frank completely halted and whipped around to her, arm at the ready to lift himself off his seat.  
“Come again?”, he asked. Before she knew it she was sobbing again. Why did she break? Why did she trust this with Frank Castle over anyone? “He left the gun on the table,” she cried. “I didn’t have a… choice… Frank. I just… shot him. I shot him a lot. That’s why… Fisk is after me, Frank… he knows!”  
“Karen…” Frank muttered as he sprinted over to the mattress, setting himself by her feet. “Hey, hey,” he cooed. Again he rested his rough hands against her shoulders. “What’re you talkin’ about?”  
Karen sniffed, “Wesley… he found out that Ben and I visited Fisk’s mother in the home. He…” She paused to breathe deeply. “He took me… to some old warehouse… he put the gun on the table… he said… he said he’d kill everyone… Ben… Matt… Foggy… my family. Everyone. He looked away, I grabbed it, and I… shot… him.”  
Frank stroked her shoulder, and his eyes were wild again, darting everywhere around Karen.  
“Alright…” he mumbled. “It’s alright, Karen, everything’s gonna be alright.”  
“It’s not gonna be alright, Frank!” Karen cried. “Don’t you see? He is gonna come after me with EVERYTHING he’s got. I took away probably his closest confidant… his friend… and he is gonna make sure I PAY.”  
“That’s not what I meant.” he replied, still crazed-looking. “That’s… that’s not what I’m talkin’ about.” Frank bounded up off the bed and into the kitchen, finally settling as he touched the counter, index fingers tapping at it restlessly.  
Karen squinted at him puzzled as she stifled back tears and sobs.  
“What is it, Frank?” she questioned.  
“It… it'll get easier is what I’m sayin’. Livin’ with that."  
"Wh.."  
"I know you're not like me, Karen. You care about people, care a lot. But you did the right thing, Karen, you did what you had to do." Frank turned himself to face her as he leaned the small of his back on the counter. He looked on at her compassionately. "You won't have to do it again," he promised.  
"Didn't think I would have to do it the first time," Karen protested. "Then I get caught up with people like Fisk, and Union Allied, and like you, and Matt..."  
"Not sure what you're datin' life has to do with this, ma'am..." Frank contended.  
"Oh...", Karen jeered. "Matt is 'The Devil of Hell's Kitchen'! I probably got into half of this shit because of him."  
Frank let out a loud guttural laugh. "No shit." Another. "That poindexter?" He nodded respectfully. "Damn."  
"Yeah," even Karen giggled.  
Frank walked towards the mattress and again sat himself at Karen's feet, smirking still. "Well it's some shit hole you got yourself into, huh?"  
"Yep," answered Karen smirking right back. Their eyes met and softened. Frank spoke first.  
“It ain’t supposed to be easy, I know,” he started. “We all got a conscience, this is right, this is wrong, and killin’ is supposed to be wrong. I mean… wasn’t supposed to tell my kids about what I did overseas and all that shit, how many people I shot, how many people they shot… supposed to teach ‘em to stay on… the right side of the law. Nobody tells you about how you’re… you’re throat gets all scratchy and closed-up before you do it. Or… how your stomach lurches so far down, you feel like you could shit yourself. Or how you think about all the good things in your life that could get taken away if you don’t do it, don’t take the shot. It ain’t an easy thing to do for most people, but goddam, there are a lot of times when if you don’t do it, it all gets worse. I know it don’t mean much at all comin’ from a guy like me, Karen, but you did the right thing in my eyes.”  
Frank broke his gaze and dropped his eyes to the dusty floor. Karen found herself smiling over at it him. She knew that it must’ve taken a lot for a man like Frank Castle to open up like that to someone, as he did now and before he disappeared.  
“Why did you come back Frank?” she repeated. Frank’s eyes flitted across the room and his hands gripped the comforter underneath him.  
“You’re… you’re good, Miss Page. You helped me. You make me…” Frank trailed off. He hopped up off the mattress.  
“Nothin’ s gonna happen to you.”  
Karen looked up at him through the shadows. Frank Castle. The Punisher. Convicted mass murder. Swearing right now in this terrible apartment to see that she was safe. Frank Castle, the only person in Hell’s Kitchen she could feel was telling her the truth. Through the shadows, in the dense air, and over to Frank, she whispered.  
“Okay.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks everyone for reading! Working on putting out a chapter every week! Very new to the fanfic scene, so if you feel so inclined to leave any kind of comments, advice, suggestions, etc, feel free!  
> \- KITS


End file.
